


Some Princes Do Become Kings

by professional_benaddict



Series: Royal AU [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Sex, Civil War, Eventual Smut, IronStrange, King Stephen - Freeform, King Tony, M/M, Magic, Multi, Oral Sex, Prince Peter - Freeform, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Royal pets, Starker, Strangefamily, Supremefamily, Teasing, royal au, royal friends with benefits, slightly dubcon/underage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-17 07:12:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15456072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professional_benaddict/pseuds/professional_benaddict
Summary: Prince Peter of Norway, once he comes of age, will take the role of king after the tragic loss of his parents. However, the Prince is inexperienced and the court does not find him to be fit for the throne. Luckily for him, the King of Sweden, Stephen, known as the ”Strange King” for his rumored skills in sorcery, has offered his expertise in ruling a country and offered to help his neighbour. Likewise, Anthony, King of Denmark, known as the ”Stark King” for making his country the most developed technologically during his rule, has also offered his help in raising the Prince to become a King. Will Peter submit to the two Kings and obey their every command, or will he stand for himself and find his own path to the throne?





	1. Chapter 1 - The Arrival (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> Or the one where Peter has his ass royally fucked, not by one, but two Kings. This is my first fic that I have published in 3 years, so apologies if my writing skills come off a little rusty. Any sort of feedback is much appreciated. 
> 
> Peter´s horse Grani: offspring of Odin´s steed Sleipnir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two Kings arrive at the Norwegian castle and the young Prince is restless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I listened to while writing this: Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea - Fall Out Boy

“Come on, boy.” Peter whispered into his steed's ear, leaning slightly forwards on the saddle as Grani picked up his pace and dashed through the trees. All the Prince could hear was the wind in his ears and his horse's laboured breathing. The sun was high in the cloudless sky, but little light reached the forest floor due to the dense tree crowns above. The musky smell of the forest was like a damp fog in the air after the thunderstorm from the previous night. Peter inhaled it deeply and closed his eyes for a second, trusting his companion to lead the way. Opening his eyes again, he spotted a tree ahead across the narrow path, clearly struck by lightning. Unprompted, Grani leaped across the log, having no trouble with the obstacle. Peter let out a cry of joy at the feeling of being weightless. Returning to the ground, Grani's hooves sounded like thunder in the quiet wilderness. If Peter had not felt the presence of Thor during last night's storm, he did feel it now. 

“Your Highness!”

The cry was faint, but the Prince's keen senses picked it up nonetheless. He motioned for Grani to slow his gallop and Peter looked around until he spotted one of his servants on a horse coming towards him. 

“Your Highness, the King of Denmark and King of Sweden have arrived.” The messenger announced with a raised voice over the panting of the two horses. Peter nodded and turned Grani towards the direction of the castle, the horse huffing from the gallop. 

“Thank you. Please, let the Majesties know I will welcome them as soon as I have changed.”   
He said and in the blink of an eye he and Grani dashed off once again, leaving the servant and his less talented horse to struggle through the dense forest. As Peter approached the castle, he felt a bundle of nervousness tightening in his stomach. 

“Oh, ancient Gods, help me.” 

Peter remembered the two Kings from his childhood. He had regularly visited the two courts with his parents when they were still alive. In Denmark, as guests of the Stark King, Peter remembered spending hours exploring the deep and dark woods around the castle. His nanny, May, had scolded him for ruining his beautiful velvety suit, but he remembered that the Stark King came to his defence. 

«A young Prince should explore his surroundings, learn how to survive in the harsh Scandinavian lands. These experiences are far more valuable than any piece of clothing. Leave the Prince to his adventures.» The King had said, winking an eye and ruffling Peter’s wild curls before strolling away. 

Two days later, the Prince had passed the King and his guards in one of the halls. The King informed him that he had left a gift on his bed in his chambers. The gift was an outfit made of the toughest and finest leather Peter had ever felt. It was beautifully decorated with silver, white and golden embroidery at the sleeves, collar and shoulders. He realised later, once he had put it on and went outside for his daily adventures in the woods, that the outfit did not have as much as a scratch on it. 

«I am so pleased that it fits, my little Prince. Now you can venture as much as your little heart pleases without worrying about tearing your clothes.» Anthony said with a smile at the dinner table later that day. For the rest of the dinner, the King gave the Prince his full attention as he rambled on about everything he had discovered in the woods. 

Peter remembered the visits to the Swedish court just as vividly. The surrounding area of the castle was just as enjoyable for any young boy to explore as the woods. Behind the castle, there was a large garden, with all kinds of exotic flowers and plants that Peter examined with his small and gentle fingers. One memory was particularly clear due to the pain he experienced that day. Peter's intense moment of flower studying had been startled by the screams and cries of a visiting Middle Eastern Princess who had fallen into one of the fountains, causing the Prince to jump and push his hand into the thorny bush. All eyes were on the crying princess as the royals, lords, ladies and servants surrounded her and tried to comfort her. Despite the Princess’ loudness, Peter's winces and whimpers did not go unnoticed by the Swedish King. He knelt down to Peter and gently took his injured hand into his own, examining it. 

«Oh, my poor darling Prince. Come, let us go inside and I will help you.»

Peter had tried his hardest to not cry in front of the King, but a few sobs did escape him as Stephen careful pulled every thorn out of his fingers. 

«There.» The King said gently, stroking Peter’s now bandaged hand. «Now you be careful for the next few days, little Prince, and your hand should be as good as new.» 

It was not until years later that Peter realised that the task of patching him up belonged to the nanny and that it was unheard of that a King would take care of a whimpering child. He felt a warmth spread in his chest at the memory, but it was quickly replaced by the nervous bundle in his stomach when he found himself in front of the door leading to were the Kings were now waiting. 

Peter had changed from his riding outfit and was now in one of his favourite white suits with golden embroidery on the front. His tailors had argued that the white made a good contrast to his brunette curls and brown eyes, which he had to admit he agreed with. He looked quite the dashing young Prince, but it had been at least ten years since he last had seen the two Kings, which was during the funeral of his parents. The Prince found himself feeling curious, but also slightly weary, as a servant opened the door for him and he stepped inside. 

The two Kings were seated next to each other on one of the two sofas in the centre of the lush room, their teacups and small pastries on the table in between the sofas. Anthony had just finished telling a story, which apparently amused Stephen as he chuckled deeply. The Dane was dressed in a dark red suit with a white scarf wrapped lazily around his neck and shoulder. His suit had a low V-neck, decorated beautifully with golden treads into a sharp pattern. Below the V, there was a circular embroidery, right in the middle of the King's chest. It reminded Peter of the sun. The Swede was dressed in a navy blue suit with a black belt around his waist. Both men seemed tired from their long journey to the Norwegian castle, but they looked nonetheless handsome, maybe more so, than when Peter had last seen them. The Kings turned to look at Peter as the door was closed behind him and he walked over to the two, his hands clasped behind his back and chin up. 

“Your Highness.” Stephen said, raising and placing his hand on his chest and bowing slightly. Anthony followed suit and Peter returned the gesture to them both. 

“Welcome to Norway and the castle, your Majesties. I hope you make yourselves at home. My sincerest apologies for keeping you waiting.” Peter said as he straightened himself. “Grani and I were out for a ride and the messengers tend to have a hard time tracking us down in the woods.” He explained hastily, but relaxed when Anthony made a dismissing gesture with his hand. 

“Quite alright, young Prince. Stephen and I had a lot to discuss, so time flew by. But remember for the future, that I do not particularly like being kept waiting. We are both incredibly busy men and time is precious. So, let us begin.” The Dane sat back down and so did the Swede. Peter sat on the sofa across from them, suddenly very aware of his posture and sat with his back straight and his hands clasped in his lap. 

“First off, I must saw you have grown into a fine, handsome man.” Stephen pointed out. Anthony nodded in agreement and Peter felt the tips of his ears pulsing with heat. “Your parents would be proud.”

“That is very kind of you, your Highness.” 

Stephen tilted his head to the side and smiled, reaching for his cup of tea. Peter turned his gaze to the other King and found that he was eyeing him up and down. The young Prince knew very little of the relations between the Scandinavian realm and the rest of the world, but one thing he had heard whispers about. The Danish King was rumoured to be quite the womaniser, particularly when visiting exotic kingdoms. The frequent trips would explain his tanned skin which he seemed to have all year, despite the near lack of sun during the winter in their realm. 

«Peter. I need your utter most attention.» The Swedish King demanded, as he stood in front of Peter. 

«Of course, my King.» Peter uttered quickly, blushing slightly for being caught daydreaming. He could swear he caught a glimpse of the Dane grinning. 

The room the three royals were gathered in was on the western side of the Norwegian royal castle. It was late summer and the sun was casting lazy rays of golden light inside the large room, making the red and gold paint and textures seem even more vibrant. The tea on the table had started cooling, but their conversation was only now heating up as they approached the issue at hand. It had been years since Anthony and Stephen’s last visit, but the two Kings seemed at ease, like they owned the castle, which made the Prince feel slightly uneasy. Peter knew this castle, his home, far better than the two Kings combined, but their presence made him feel meek. 

”Your Mother and Father were great rules. Perhaps the greatest the kingdom of Norway has ever had.” Stephen said, his tone serious, but gentle as he spoke of the late King Richard and Queen Mary. «Few kingdoms have the King and Queen be equals when it comes to power, but their rule was exceptional. Your people adored them and they adore you too, Peter.» 

The young Prince squirmed slightly in his seat on the plush, velvet sofa. His collar felt tight under the gaze of the two Kings. But he did not dare break his eye contact with the Swede, so he gulped and continued listening closely. 

”The fate of the whole Scandinavian realm depends on you, Peter, and your ability to rule. Our realm has been peaceful and our people are doing well, but the change of monarch is always a vulnerable time. Whether you are ready to take the role or not, is irrelevant, as your royal duties fall on you now that you are coming of age. But fret not, for we are here to help prepare you for the throne.” Stephen explained, pacing the polished floors with his chin high. He looked at Peter, satisfied that he still has his full attention and continued. ”With great power-”

”Comes great responsibility.” Peter interrupted, lowering his head when the Swedish King shoot him a stern look for interrupting. 

”You know the phrase?” Anthony questioned with an eyebrow raised in curiosity. He was sat comfortably on the sofa across Peter, with one knee over the other. Some would say too comfortably for his ranking. Peter knew that much about posture at least. 

”Yes, my lord.” The Prince answered simply, leaving the two Kings to exchange a look. They both noticed that the Prince was deliberately leaving the response short. 

”Well then, one less lesson for us to teach you.” Anthony announced, raising from the plush sofa and moving next to Stephen to look down at the Prince. ”However, there is plenty more, so let us begin.”


	2. Chapter 2 - The First Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has his first lesson with King Anthony. It does not go as expected, and the Prince seeks advice from someone he trusts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this: Run Boy Run - Woodkid

“Faster, Peter, faster! Never drop your guard.” Anthony exclaimed over the sound of steel against steel ringing in the empty room. 

Peter was panting heavily, making a grimace as he forced his exhausted right arm to block yet another of the Dane's attempts at slicing his neck. They had practiced sword fighting all morning and every single one of Peter's bones, joints, muscles and nerves were screaming. His pride stopped him from giving up just yet, but he knew he was nearing his end. The King had barely broken a sweat in his airy white shirt, black trousers and leather boots. Peter, on the other hand, was soaked in sweat despite stripping his shirt a long time ago. The Prince spun around, getting a second or two to gather himself before he swung his sword in an attack. The King saw it coming and in the blink of an eye, Peter had the King's sword against his throat, his own sword on the floor. They stood frozen for a second, only the sound of their heavy panting echoing along the walls. Anthony's brown eyes looked dark and mischievous, a tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth. Peter swallowed thickly and let out a sigh of relief as the King drew back. 

“Better than I expected. Your advantage is your slim frame. It gives you speed, but you do not have the stamina to survive on a battlefield.” The King explained bluntly, leaving Peter little time to enjoy the praise before he continued with his criticism. “You must work on your strength, and by that I mean daily, so that when the day comes you can defend yourself, and your country. I am quite the swordsman and I could teach you myself. Unfortunately, I do not have time for such. Once I return home, I will have one of my best swordsman sent here to train you. However, you will not be let out of my sight that easily, as I will request detailed reports of your progress.” Anthony raised his sword and studied it in the morning light, finding nothing or note and spun it around playfully. The blade whistled softly as it cut through the air, coming to a sudden halt under Peter's chin. The Prince's breath hitched and he stiffened under the King's intense gaze. With a low voice, the King spoke again. 

“Are you prepared to die for you country, boy?” The question came out of the blue and shocked the Prince, let alone the title that the King used to address him. He was of a lower ranking, but the Dane still did not have the right to call him such. Peter's body seemed to disagree and he felt a warmth of arousal spread in his lower stomach. 

“Yes, my lord.” Peter spoke with an embarrassingly shaky voice, making the response barely convincing. The King tutted, trailing the cold tip of his weapon down the young man's bare chest, then his stomach and stopping right above the hem of his trousers. 

“Not even a naive child would be convinced by that answer, Peter. And your body is also betraying you by submitting so easily to someone's attempts at dominating you.” The Stark King applied more pressure to his sword and Peter winced in response as he fell to his knees. Partly out of exhaustion, the other part, he was not entirely sure about. His heart was pounding, his blood rushing in his ears, but the King's voice was as clear as day. 

“Princes with such poor qualities,” The King spoke slowly, his voice low. “do not become Kings.” 

Peter took in a shaky breath as he looked at the floor. The logical part of him was screaming at him for having such thoughts, but right now, in this moment, submitting to the Stark King seemed like all he wanted to do. What he was born to do. 

“Then perhaps I do not want to be King.” Peter said quietly, raising his blushing face, his tousled brunette curls bouncing softly. The Dane smirked, that dark and mischievous look back in his eyes and he studied the kneeling Prince in front of him. Suddenly, seeming to snap out of it, he raised his sword in a swift motion and extended his free hand to help Peter up. 

“Nonsense. I will make a King out of you. You are the heir of King Richard, after all. There is much you do not know about your abilities, boy. But Stephen and I will help you along the way. Now, get cleaned up and have a lay down. It seems like you need it.” Anthony winked and gave Peter's behind a pat. Maybe even a light squeeze, but Peter could not be entirely sure about that as all of his muscles were tingling with adrenaline. 

 

To clear his fuzzy head after his fighting lesson, Peter made his way to the stable in the early afternoon. The servants muttered their greetings and Peter passed them all a polite smile. His true smile, however, tugged at his lips once he made his way to Grani. The white horse spotted his master and nickered happily, stomping his hooves on the floor. He knew that a long and hard ride in the woods was ahead of him and Peter also felt the nervous energy in him. 

“Yes, boy, we are going. Just hold on a little while longer.” He chuckled and patted Grani's muscular neck. As he fetched the saddle and bridle, he noticed one additional horse in the stable, being tended to and brushed. He assumed the horse belonged to one of the visiting Kings. 

“Is that King Anthony's horse?” Peter asked the servant. 

“Yes, your Highness.”

“Did the Swede not bring his?”

“He did, but he went out with her not long ago, you Highness.” 

Peter nodded and thanked the man as he opened the gate to Grani's stall, leading him out into the afternoon sun. Fastening his gloves, he jumped onto his steed and motioned him into a trot. They made their way through the gates and once they were on the field that lead to the woods, Grani neighed and leaped into a gallop. 

The two were not aimlessly dashing through the woods, as they usually did, but Peter guided the horse to May's cottage. It lay a few kilometres to the west, in an opening in the dense forest were all kinds wild flowers grew. Peter had the cottage built for her once she grew too old for her job at the castle. She had settled there comfortably, despite protesting the kind gesture at first. She lived there with her cats and tended to the vegetable field that she had built behind the cottage, which she was very proud of. The young Prince visited her as often as his schedule allowed. Partly due to owing her such after she had worked her whole adult life for the royal family, but also because she was dear to Peter. Officially, she had only been a nanny to him, but he found her to be more than that. An aunt was more fitting, as she had practically raised him after the death of his parents. He had started calling her “Aunt May” after that, but she gently urged him not to. Now, that she was old and not working at the castle, she allowed the Prince to call her that. 

“Easy, Grani boy.” Peter shushed as they approached the cottage and he jumped down to the ground. He unfastened Grani's bridle and let his steed graze on the field, trusting him not to run off. 

“Aunt May? Are you home?” Peter called as he walked up to the cottage door. He heard a soft sneeze and turned to look at the set of outside chairs and small table by the door. One of May's cats, Eir, was rubbing her nose with one of her paws. The grey cat meowed and jumped down, rubbing her side against Peter's leg, her tail curled. He knelt down to stroke her back and muttered sweet nothings. Silently, another cat sneaked up on Peter and he giggled in surprise at feeling her curly orange coat on his other side. 

“Kára! You startled me.” Peter said with a chuckle, stroking the other cat as well. 

“I see you met the girls. I think they missed you.” Peter raised his head at the familiar voice and grinned as he met May's friendly face. “As have I, my Prince.” She said, opening her arms and Peter embraced her. 

“Aunt May. It is so good to see you.” He said cheerfully, looking down at the two purring cats by his feet. “Is Siv inside?”

“Oh yes, she is napping in her favourite spot. Come inside, I will make us some tea.”

After answering the usual questions about his well being and the few tasks that the court did leave to him, May moved onto the latest gossip. She still had friends working at the castle, who brought all kinds of stories and rumours to her. Peter had to admit that he also told her things he probably should not, but if there was anyone he trusted in this world, it was his dear aunt May. 

“The Strange and Stark King are visiting, are they not? I saw their carriages escorted up the hill towards the castle when I was out gathering berries the day before yesterday. Which one has more gold? Were they friendly or rude? Which one is more handsome?” It seemed she asked all the questions in one breath, leaving Peter to gather his thoughts for a second before answering. 

“Yes, they are. And you know I cannot speculate about such things. I would not be appropriate.” He said, but May gave him a look as his ears turned pink.

“Fine.” She said teasingly, sipping her tea. Can you at least tell me why they are both here? It has been years since they were both here.” May asked, leaning slightly forwards on her seat. 

“They… They are here to raise me to become a King.” Peter admitted, his ears burning quite hotly now. May noticed the seriousness of the statement and lowered her cup. She placed her hand on top of one of Peter's on the table. 

“I know the loss of your parents is a sore topic and that you are reluctant to take their role, but it is something you have to do, my dear.” May said gently, stroking Peter's soft hands with her rougher ones. 

“It is not just that.” Peter started, sighing and looking out the window to avoid May's curious look. “I do not feel like I have what is demanded of me.” The Prince said, remembering what the Dane had said to him that morning, as well as what he had said in return. “I feel so powerless in their presence. They walk all over me and I can barely get anything said.” He bit his lip as he admitted these embarrassing thoughts of his to the nanny. 

“This is a vulnerable time for village boys and princes alike.” May started with a gentle chuckle, giving Peter's hand a squeeze so that he would meet her eye. “This is your first encounter with Kings, and there will be plenty more in the future, but you will learn as you go through them. Even the greatest lions were once cubs, squeaking and tumbling around before they learnt how to roar.” May pointed out. The image of a lion cub falling over humoured Peter and he smiled at May, feeling slightly more encouraged. 

“Thank you, Aunt May.” Peter lifted up May's hand and kissed the back of it gently, causing her to laugh and blush. 

They spent a while longer laughing and talking about happier topics, until it was time for Peter to return home. After giving May a kiss on both cheeks and thanking her for the tea, he grabbed Grani's bridle and stepped outside. At the sound of the door closing, Grani raised his head and trotted over to Peter, lowering his head so that his master could fasten the bridle once more. They made their way to the castle at a more relaxed pace as Peter wanted to enjoy the quiet sounds of the forest. They were nearly halfway home when Peter heard an unusual sound. A low growl. Grani tensed up too, his ears turning to locate the sound. Peter looked around with a keen eye to see if he could spot the animal that made the growl. The same growl yet again and Grani stomped his hooves anxiously. The sound was far too low for a fox. Peter's heart jumped in his throat at a snarl from behind and he turned Grani around by the reins, spotting a dark and hairy creature stepping out from behind a small tree. A wolf. Peter had no wish to kill the animal, but it was far too close to the castle and May's cottage. Finding bravery at the thought of protecting his beloved nanny, he urged Grani up on his hind legs. His steed neighed loudly and leaped towards the wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, any sort of feedback is welcome.
> 
> Aunt May´s cats  
> Eir: "mercy" in Old Norse, goddess of healing and medicine  
> Kára: "curly", name of a Valkyrie  
> Siv: "bride", wife of Thor


	3. Chapter 3 - The Encounters in the Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter makes two encounters in the forest and might be late to dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this: Isjaki - Sigur Ros

“Be gone, wolf!” Peter roared as they chased the animal deeper into the woods. The wolf was quick due to its smaller size, but Grani was talented and was not far behind the dark creature as they ran through the trees. During their chase, Peter remembered what he had been told about the Gods and shapeshifting. Loki the trickster God, in particular, was told to appear in the disguise of a wolf to cause mayhem for others for his own pleasing. The wolf turned to the left, sprinting onto a clearing in the forest. Blinded by the low sun, Peter did not see the horse that he nearly ran into. Both horses were startled and rose onto their hind legs, kicking and neighing in fright. 

“Whoah, whoah, Grani! Easy, easy!” Peter yelled, pulling on the reins and patting his horse's neck as he returned down onto his front legs. Looking up at the rider of the other horse, Peter saw that it was none other but the Swedish King. He was also calming his own startled white steed by patting her neck. Shame washed over Peter at putting the King, his guest, in danger. 

“Your Majesty! I am so sorry! I was a fool, I did not watch were I was riding.” He apologised hastily.

“No no, I think we both were careless. I am to blame as well, my lord.” Stephen reassured and moved his now calm horse closer to Peter. “What had you in such a rush? If I may ask.”

“I spotted a wolf and was trying to chase it away from the castle.” Peter explained, remembering the creature once more and looking for it in the tall grass of the opening. 

“A wolf you say?” The Swede said, with a knowing smile. “Fenrir! Come here, boy!” He shouted and after a while, the same dark wolf trotted out of the bushes and stopped by, presumably, his master's side. 

“You have a wolf as a pet?” Peter exclaimed in awe, looking at the animal now that he was much closer. 

“A wolf-dog, yes. He has been one of my most trusted companions the last few years, along with my girl, Frea, here.” The Swede said, stroking the neck of his mare. “Fenrir gets restless if he does not get to run for at least an hour each day, so I brought him out here.”

“May I suggest giving him a collar? It might make him look more friendly, because to me, he appears more like a wolf than a dog.” The Prince said, chuckling and letting out a sigh of relief after fearing the worst with the animal. The suggestion seemed to humour the King and he laughed. 

The Prince and King made their way back to the castle at a comfortable pace, with Fenrir ahead of them leading the way. The wolf-dog was sniffing curiously at nearly every root and stone, but did turn to look at his master every now and then. A sign of a well trained dog. As Peter looked at the pet, he could not help wonder why the King would give his pet a viscous name like Fenrir. The resemblance was obvious to Loki's monstrous wolf that Peter had been told stories about, but the green eyes of the wolf-dog did not suggest evil. 

“I must admit, my lord, your wolf-dog is a beauty. But I cannot help but wonder what made you give him such a vicious name.” Peter said as they approached the lake that was located near the castle. If one squinted their eyes, one could see the castle through the dense tree branches in the distance. The Prince had spent every summer by the lake when he was younger, diving and splashing around as long as his nanny would allow him. He rarely had someone to swim with though, as he had no siblings to play with. 

“He told me that that was his name.” Stephen said, smirking at Peter's baffled expression.

“He… spoke to you?”

They both stopped their horses as Fenrir halted in front of them before making his way to the lake for a drink. 

“Indeed. I heard his voice as clearly as I hear you now.” 

Peter turned to look at Fenrir, his large tail swinging gently from side to side as he lapped at the water surface thirstily. Once he had satisfied his thirst, he turned his forest green eyes on Peter. Suddenly, the Prince was not so sure about the wolf-dog’s innocence. There were rumours that the Swedish King was a sorcerer, or at least knew some magic. There were all kinds of stories of the King summoning bright orange and green lights in his palms, using the blasts of energy against his enemies of the battlefield. Peter had also heard from some of his servants that a cloaked figure had visited deathly ill peasants and healed them with magic. Some were convinced it was the goddess of healing and medicine, Eir, who had healed them, but others had sworn they recognised the cloaked figure to be the Swedish King because of his blue-green eyes. 

A sudden splash of water echoed over the quiet lake. Stephen and Peter both jumped down from their steeds´ backs and made their may over to shore of the lake. Fenrir had jumped into the deep blue water, huffing through his nose as he swam. 

“Shall we?” Stephen said and started to unbutton his riding jacket, before starting on his undershirt. 

“I… umm. Should we not get back, my lord? I do not want us to be late for dinner.” Peter stammer awkwardly, averting his gaze from the King's now bare upper body. Even if the King used magic during battles, it was obvious he could still defeat his enemies by pure strength and talent. His toned torso and muscular thighs revealed that. 

“A King is never late, everyone else is simply early. You should learn that if you wish to become one too some day.” The Swede said, dropping his underpants onto the pile along with the rest of his clothes. Peter felt the familiar pulsing heat in in his ears, but now it spread further to his face and upper chest as he laid eyes on the King's bare behind. 

“I hope my state of undress does not make you uncomfortable, dear Prince.” Stephen said with a husky voice, wading through the water. 

Trying his hardest to seem unbothered, Peter started undressing as well. Looking out on the water, he saw that Fenrir was circling Stephen and barking in excitement. 

“Dive, boy!” Stephen commanded and dove down under the water's surface, Fenrir following suit. Peter was now also nude and stepped into the lake, finding the water to be surprisingly warm to be late summer. The King returned to the surface and threw his hair back, his eyes falling onto Peter's nude figure. The water had not yet covered Peter's pelvis and his cock twitch in excitement as the King looked at him. With a few smooth motions, the King swam closer and then waded on the lake bottom. Peter remained frozen, a shiver running down his spine despite the warm afternoon sun. The water droplets were traveling down the King's beautiful fair skin, which reminded Peter of those white statues he had seen in the south. He followed the water droplets´ trail down, disappointed that he could not see the King's pelvis through the dark water. 

“A little shy, now are we?” The King teased with a smile, lifting a wet hand to rest of Peter's cheek. “Come join me. It is quite lovely.” He purred in Peter's ear, brushing his lips against his earlobe softly. The Prince allowed himself to be guided deeper into the water and swam around with the King, not taking his eyes off of him. The Swede's blue-green eyes, fair skin and angular facial structure spoke of obvious Scandinavian decent. However, the King's raven dark hair was unusual and appeared to be even darker now that it was wet. The only hint that the King was ageing, were the streaks of grey in his hair above his ears. His mysterious appearance intrigued Peter. 

The two swam a bit too close to one another and Peter lost his flow for a second as he tangled his legs with Stephen's. Two strong arms grasped his torso and he felt himself being pulled close to the King's chest. Locking his eyes with those blue-green ones, Peter felt the blush return and Stephen smiled gently. 

“Oh, how sweet you are, my Prince…” The whisper sent a shiver down Peter's spine, which pooled as a heat in his lower stomach. Wrapping his arms around the King's neck, Peter leaned in and kissed the King. Stephen did not draw back, but pulled him closer and tilted the Prince's head for a better angle. The kiss was sweet and gentle at first, but it soon turned deeper and more lustful. Drawing back to catch their breaths, they locked eyes once more. Peter may be slightly wary of the wolf-dog, but his master had nothing but softness in his eyes. 

“My King…” Peter said softly, but was interrupted by splashing in the distance. Fenrir was kicking his front paws, attempting to catch something. The water stilled once more and Fenrir turned around and swam to them with a squirming fish between his sharp teeth. 

“Someone is getting hungry. I assume that is our cue to return.” Stephen said and Peter nodded in agreement, feeling slightly chilly in the water now that the sun had disappeared behind the tall trees surrounding the lake. However, he thought he could stay in the lake all night if he had the King to embrace him and keep him warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this far! Please leave kudos or a comment with some feedback if you have some to offer. 
> 
> Stephen´s wolf-dog Fenrir: son of Loki  
> Stephen´s horse Frea: another version of Freya, the goddess of love, beauty, war and death


	4. Chapter 4 - The Second Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter´s sword training continues, but a bulging and throbbing problem interrupts the session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this: Irresistible - Fall Out Boy

Peter's mind was hazy, his limbs too heavy to move. Warm fingers with rings were all over his torso, holding him down and he moaned softly. A voice shushed him, echoing like it came from miles away. The pair of hands on his torso moved down to spread his thighs, short nails digging into his soft flesh as well as the bands of gold. Moaning once more, he felt another pair of hands, gripping his and pinning them down above his head. Then, the voice echoed again. “You will never be King, you will always be our little whore…” The voice whispered in his ear and he cried in pleasure as both the faceless figures penetrated his ass at the same time. 

Peter woke up with a gasp and sat up quickly, panting and rubbing at his eyes. The image of the hands with the rings still clung to his groggy brain, but faded as he came to his full senses. It was morning, dust dancing in the bright rays of light in the small opening of the thick curtains. Now that he had caught his breath, he looked down at himself. There was no denying of the erection he had and that he was leaking pre cum into his white sheets. He prayed to the Gods that the servants would not suspect what had happened when they cleaned his chambers. Cursing softly under his breath, Peter rose from the bed and tidied himself up. He had to prepare for his training with King Anthony, which he dreaded now that he realised his erection was not going anywhere. He chose his tightest underpants and trousers to try to minimise the tent on his pelvis. It seemed to do the trick and Peter fetched one of his swords, pulling it from the scabbard and retreating it as he walked out of his chambers. 

“Ah, there you are, young Prince. I was just about to become impatient.” Anthony said and stepped away from the window he had stood by, gazing out at the sunrise. 

“Good morning, my lord.” Peter greeted and pulled his sword out, getting a good grip. “Ready when you are.”

Their second session was no less agonising for the inexperienced Prince. Luckily, his body seemed to prioritise correctly and he felt his cock go limp again as the blood was brought to his muscles instead. 

“Good, Peter. Much better.” The King praised, as he did one of his moves again, which Peter recognised from the day before and was now able to block. He grinned at his success and felt a spark of pride in his chest. Like yesterday, however, the praise did not last long as Peter was overpowered by the King's much better stamina and skill. 

“Dead.” The King stated bluntly, when he stopped his sword at Peter's inner thigh, ready to leave him bleeding to death by cutting the large artery. 

“Dead.” The tip of the weapon was now resting on his back, right by his kidney. 

“And dead.” Anthony said, pulling a sad face in mockery. Peter was once more on his knees, but this time the tip of the blade was resting right on top of his pounding heart. The Prince raised his gaze and let it trail up the blade, stopping when he spotted the rings on the King's hand. The dream returned into his mind like a lightning bolt, his blood once more rushing downwards. He bit his lip at the betrayal of his body. However, he noticed he was not the only one flustered. The King also had a tent in his lose trousers, his breathing heavier than usual and neck and collarbones flushed. And that dark and mischievous look in his eyes once more. Peter understood now. The rumour of him seducing man and woman alike on his diplomatic travels abroad. Anyone would submit to such a sight. Suddenly overcome with jealously at the thought of the King fucking someone other than him, the Prince moved the blade aside and crawled to the King's feet. His eyes were right at the level of the King's pelvis and he looked up, not needing to ask the obvious question.

“Go ahead, boy.” Said Anthony, his voice raspy with arousal as he dropped his sword to the floor. With shaking fingers, Peter untied his trousers and pulled down the soft materials to reveal the King's leaking cock in all its glory. If his dream was even half true, that he would cry with pleasure of being penetrated by him, he became even more eager and needy to impress the King so that he could soon have the honour of having the King inside of himself. 

A steady hand was placed on the back of his head, guiding him to take the leaking cock into his mouth. Hungrily, Peter lapped at the tip before sucking on it. The smell, the taste, the sight of the King was all wrapped around his senses, making him dizzy with pleasure as he took the King deeper into his mouth. He placed his hands on the back of the Dane's thighs, feeling every quiver of the powerful muscles. A gentle nip with his teeth made Anthony gasp, tightening his grip on the Prince's curls.  
“Oh, you feel so good, Prince. Good boy…” The words came out in huffs and groans as the King started fucking the Prince's throat, bringing tears to the boy's eyes. There was the degrading title once more, but it only made Peter more aroused and he moaned around the cock in his mouth, hollowing his cheeks in a particularly hard suck that had the King shaking. 

“Oh you are a wicked whore, boy…” Anthony choked out, nearing his release. A couple hard thrusts had him cumming down Peter's throat and like the good boy be was, he swallowed it all despite gagging. On slightly wobbly feet, the King pulled back from the young man's mouth and pulled his clothes back up. Peter watched in a haze, catching his breath and wriggling in his trousers. If they were tight earlier, they were unbearably tight now. 

“Please, Anthony…” Peter muttered, bucking his hips. The King knelt down on one knee, bringing his hand down to cup Peter's bulge, causing the Prince to whimper pathetically like the horny mess he was. The firm touch was like a lightning bolt, sending shivers up his spine and leaving his limps tingly. 

“You are so close already, are you not? Little whore.” The King purred with a smirk, squeezing and rubbing the Prince's smaller cock through his clothes. He was so on edge, that only after a moment or two he was cumming in his trousers and fell into the King's strong arms. The orgasm had Peter shaking, moaning loudly and the King rode him through it, cupping and rubbing him.

“There, there, my dear Prince…” The Dane spoke softly, petting the Prince's curls as he caught his breath once more after his intense release. Peter felt like he was back in the dream, surrounded by a warm haze with hands all over him. First around his back, then under his knees and he was lifted up. Struggling to keep his eyes open, Peter saw the dark walls of the halls pass by, the familiar face of a servant and a rumbling in the chest his head was resting against. 

“He is quite alright, just exhausted from our training. I will bring him to his chambers.”

He opened his eyes once more when he felt himself be lowered onto something soft, hearing the same reassuring voice as he sunk into the mattress. 

“Rest, my dear Prince.”

A feather of a kiss on his temple and then darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry if you guys found the smutty part too short. It has been a while since I have written something like that and I just found it so corny ahah. I am having a blast writing this though, but I do not know how long I can keep this going as I will begin my studies this autumn. I will try to make the ending as satisfactory as possible. Please let me know what you think of my work below. Thank you dears!


	5. Chapter 5 - The Prying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and the Danish King share a sweet moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this: Please Be Naked - The 1975

Peter was dreaming once more. It was not the same dream, with the hands, but his mind was nonetheless comfortably hazy. A soft singing voice surrounding him in his twilight state between consciousness and unconsciousness. 

“This said my mother  
That I shall buy for myself  
A swift ship and of a pretty oar,  
To journey away with freebooters,”

A lazy smile tugged at his lips as he recognised the song. It was one that his mother would sing to him when he had woken up during the night, whether it be due to a nightmare, thunderstorm or the simple need for his mother’s comfort. Aunt May had sang the same song, but it was never the same as when his mother had sang it. Even though the voice singing now was masculine, he seemed to hit the notes like his mother had. Cracking his eyes open, he saw that he was not in his own chambers, but rather in one of the larger guest chambers. Turning his head towards the singing voice, Peter saw Anthony on the edge of the bed, his back to him. The King continued singing gently. 

“To stand tall on the prow,  
Steer a worthy merchant-ship,  
Direct it thus to the harbour,  
Strike one man and the other  
Strike one man and the other.”

Peter lay silently on the bed, expecting the King to continue with the second verse. However, Anthony remained quiet and Peter decided to speak softly. 

“My mother used to sing that to me.” Peter spoke, his voice slightly raspy from sleeping. Luckily, Anthony did not seem to be startled and turned to face Peter. 

“So did mine.” Said the King with a tight smile. There was a vulnerability in his brown eyes that Peter was surprised to see. Sentimentality was something Peter had learnt that was to be kept to a minimal. After all, who would respect a weak King or Queen? The King lowered his sad eyes to a brooch in his hands. It was golden and shaped into a dove in flight. Peter presumed that it had belonged to Anthony’s mother, Queen Maria. Peter had never met het, as he was born long after she was gone, but he had still heard of the exceptional kindness of the Danish Queen. A sharp knock at the door startled both monarchs and Anthony cursed softly as he pocketed the brooch. 

“Your Majesty, the refreshments you requested!” A servant announced from behind the door and the King rose from the bed. 

“Yes, yes, thank you.” The King said, a hint of annoyance in his thanks as he opened the door. Luckily for Peter, his presence was hidden by the drapes over the bed. Instead of letting the servant bring the tray in, the King took it himself and slammed the door shut quickly. 

“By Odin´s beard…” Peter heard the King mutter as he placed the tray on the bed. His sudden outburst of irritation seemed to melt away as he looked at the Prince on his bed. “You must be starving. Have something to eat.” Anthony said, his voice sweet once more. 

Peter looked down at the tray, his hunger hitting him suddenly and his mouth watered. He dug into the cold cuts of meat, grapes and pastries. Anthony chuckled in amusement as Peter stuffed his face, grabbing one of the two glasses of wine and getting comfortable on the bed beside the Prince. They sat in comfortable silence, eating, drinking and gazing out of the large open window on the undraped side of the bed. And exchanging sweet kisses on lips, foreheads, cheeks and noses. For once, Peter did not feel embarrassed, which he realised he had felt almost constantly since the two Kings´ arrival three days ago. The Prince felt comfortable, content. Happy. Even after realising the King must have undressed him after he had fallen asleep, as he was now nude under the King's sheets. Rather than pull the silky material higher up his torso, he let it rest on his hips. 

“Did the brooch belong to you mother?”

The King turned to face Peter, nodding as he retrieved the piece of jewellery from his pocket. Now that he got a closer look at the brooch, Peter noticed the diamond that was the dove´s eye. 

“I have heard that she was incredibly kind and generous.” The Prince said, scooting closer to the older man. 

“She was.” Anthony sighed, moving his head to rest on top of Peter's on the plush pillows. “I cannot say the same about my father.” The King chuckled bitterly, pocketing the brooch once more as if to protect his fond memories of his mother. 

“But enough about me, my dear. Would you be so kind and tell me about your own parents?” The King requested, even though he had said almost nothing about himself and his parents. 

“I ummm…”Peter stammered, feeling his throat tighten and he sat up from his half-laying position. “I would rather not.”

“Of course, Peter. I apologise for prying. I have asked too much.”

The apology made Peter feel even worse. Had he not just been prying of the King's personal affairs? He lay back down and found great comfort when the King embraced him in his arms. 

“No, it is not. It is only fair after I pried into your personal affairs.” Peter explained, getting comfortable against Anthony's chest. “My mother used to sing “This Said My Mother” to me when I woke up during the night.” 

“Nightmares?”

“As well as wolves howling and thunderstorms.” Peter replied and said no more. The King hummed in sympathy, leaving soft kisses on his temple. 

“You can come into my bed at night if you feel frightened.” The King's offer touched Peter and he was left speechless. The hole in his heart felt less vacant. 

They lay on the bed for a while longer until the day turned into afternoon, the sunlight in the room becoming more orange. 

“As lovely… as this is… you are requested… in the library.” The King said in between kisses on Peter's collarbones, neck and under his jaw. The Prince giggled and squirmed, the King's well trimmed goatee tickling his skin. 

“By- ah! By whom?” The younger man gasped out in between laughs, trying to escape from the King's arms. However, like during his sword training, he was overpowered by the Dane and found himself pinned down with the Dane hovering over him. 

“Stephen. The Strange King, as they call him. He argued that it was most important that you learn human anatomy to support your fighting skills. Sounds incredibly dull, but lucky for me, I do not have to be there.” The King teased, falling back on the bed and letting Peter sit up. “I brought you an outfit.” He said, reaching for his glass of wine and pointing at a pile of clothes on a chair. Raising from the bed, Peter made sure of swaying his hips as he walked to fetch the clothes. To achieved maximum payback for teasing him earlier. 

“Anthony?” Peter asked as he dressed himself. The King hummed around his glass. The white undershirt the King was wearing was slipping down his chest, revealing the edge of his infamous scar. During the Danish Civil War 20 years ago between the royalty and the rebellion, lead by Steve Rogers, Anthony had come face to face with the rebel on the battlefield. Witnesses told of an even fight, until the King had stumbled and fallen, left under the mercy of the man who called himself “Captain of Denmark”. With his shield, he had struck the King in the middle of his chest, with such a vicious blow that the King was presumed to be dead by all in the battle. However, he survived the attack and healed. It took weeks, but the King awoke from his deep sleep and banished the rebels. People were awestruck, convinced that it had to be Odin´s work that the King would survive such an attack and that it was a sign. The rebels, along with their leader, were driven out of Denmark and fled to Iceland. There were many unanswered questions surrounding the story, which resembled more a godly legend than a story if one listened to how a Danish peasant told it. Feeling like he had pried enough for one day, Peter asked a simpler question, which was nonetheless bothering him. 

“Why did you bring me here? And not to my own bed?”

The King lowered his glass and smirked. 

“You looked too precious in my arms to sleep without someone by your side.” The King's explanation brought that familiar heat to Peter's ears. Anthony smirked again and added. “And please call me Tony, my sweet Prince.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The three royals will get their moments together, before that I want Peter to get to know them separately first though, but its coming! Also, if anyone has some suggestions about what kind of pet Peter should have, let me know. I am thinking a fox, which would go with Peters bubbly personality, but I am not sure yet. 
> 
> “Þat mælti mín móðir” (this said my mother) Old Norse song. Roughly translated but still. I could not have Tony singing Wonderwall or smth


	6. Chapter 6 - The Third Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter meets the Swedish King in the library and hears a story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this: Glitter and Gold - Barns Courtney

The library was located at the opposite end of the castle below ground level, leaving it more chilly than the rest of the castle. It was nonetheless cozy, with tiny windows which were just above the ground to let in light, but little warmth. The four walls were painted a dark red, which went well along with the dark brown of the shelves that reached the ceiling. The row of books that interested Peter the most were the ones concerning mechanics and texts with instructions of how to build nearly anything. The Prince remembered by heart were those books were located as he had spent much time reading them during the winters. He would sit curled up in the large leather chairs in the far left corner in front of the fireplace, sometimes also falling asleep during his heavy reading. Aunt May would often find him here and cover him with a blanket if he had fallen asleep without one. 

Stepping into the library, Peter found Stephen by a shelf that he knew little of. The King was undisturbed by the Prince's arrival and continued flipping through the book in his sizeable hands. He was dressed in navy blue once more, but this outfit hugged his frame tighter than the other outfits Peter had seen him in. It enhanced the curve of his back and behind nicely and Peter had a hard time looking away. 

“You wanted to see me, your Majesty.” Peter started, stopping by Stephen's side. “Tony- I mean King Anthony said you had some human anatomy to teach me.” The younger man hurried to correct his mistake, adverting his eyes elsewhere than the King's gaze. Instead of suspicious, the King seemed amused by Peter's mistake and chuckled lightly. 

“You are correct.” Said Stephen, handing the heavy book in his hands to Peter and strolling over to the reading chairs in the corner. “Sit down, and let us get started.” 

The Prince made his way to the chair across from Stephen, but a shadow in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Fenrir. Lurking like the half-predator he was, Fenrir kept his head low but his green eyes wide as he circled Stephen in his seat, settling down by his side. The Swede had called his pet a wolf-dog, but Peter was not entirely convinced. The pet looked far too immense, predatory and wild as it sat on the carpeted floor, tail curled around his paws. 

“You never got the chance to meet him properly, did you Peter?” Stephen said, placing his hand in between Fenrir´s ears and giving him a good scratch. 

“No, I did not.” Admitted Peter, settling on the chair across Stephen and extending his hand towards the wolf-dog. Raising from his position next to his master, Fenrir took some steps towards Peter, sniffing the back of his hand thoroughly. The animal took a step back and locked eyes with the Prince. 

“Prince…” A rumbling voice echoed in Peter's head in a greeting. Widening his eyes in a puzzled look, Peter looked at the King in front of him to see if he had spoken. He had not. 

“Fenrir spoke to you.” The King assumed correctly and Peter nodded, lost for words. “Fascinating. He does that very rarely.” Stephen added and resumed the petting when Fenrir nudged his snout into his hand. 

Not sure whether he liked the attention, which the wolf-dog was sparse with apparently, Peter swallowed thickly. If the rumours about the womaniser Danish King were correct, then perhaps the rumours about the Swedish King and sorcery had some truth to them too. Like at the lake, Peter did not feel fear, however. He found Stephen more and more intriguing for every moment they spent together. Depending on how long the Swede was staying, he might also learn to love his pet. 

“Fenrir.” Peter greeted in return with a slight bow of his head. Fenrir turned to look at him and returned the gesture before settling down on the floor and closing his eyes. The lesson was spent with Stephen mostly talking, explaining in great detail where to strike an opponent for maximum damage. 

“Soldiers are often heavily armoured, but if you know where to strike, you can kill them with one swing of your sword. Slicing at the joints is a good option and so is going for the neck or head. If they are lightly armoured or not armoured at all, aiming for arteries is highly effecting at weakening opponents.” The King explained, pointing at detailed drawings of veins and arteries in one of the books. 

“The inner thigh is one option, as well as the sides of the neck and upper arms. If you cut deep enough, that is all you need.”

“Tony- I mean Anthony demonstrated the inner thigh thing.” Peter stuttered, cursing at himself for making the same mistake again. The King seemed amused once more. 

“Yes, he is quite the warrior. You were not born at the time, but you do know about the Danish Civil War, correct?” The older man asked, dropping the book on the table and settling back in his seat. 

“I have heard stories, but I am not sure what to believe. I saw- I mean… I have heard of the extent of the injury that the King suffered. How can he survive something like that?” Peter questioned, moving his hands as he spoke. He was truly bewildered by the legend and even more so after seeing the sizeable scar on the Dane's chest. Stephen cleared his throat before speaking. 

“Steve Rogers was vocal about his dislike for Anthony's rule for many years. He spoke at town squares across Denmark and gathered a sizeable following, but all based on lies, mind you. During those years, he gained the name of Captain of Denmark. Anthony's hawk Hábrók flew across the country for months and observed the unrest growing among his people.  
Finally, Rogers felt confident enough to officially challenge the King on the battlefield. The challenge was hurtful to the King, as he and Steve had been friends in their youth.  
However, he accepted the challenge and started preparing his own armour. The rebels and the Danish army armoured themselves as well, brought their weapons and at dawn on the arranged day, the battle broke out. Anthony rode into battle on his white colt Orvar and lead his army bravely. The rebels were less well equipped, but they did have the Winter Soldier, who is infamously vicious. Not only did Steve Rogers go against the throne, but he also brought a foreigner into the civil conflict.  
The fight was even, but the height of the battle was when Anthony and Steve came face to face. The two men fought for a long time. So long, that there were nearly no Danish soldiers nor rebels left standing as they had all destroyed one another. Anthony was armoured like no man before him and Steve struggled with weakening him. However, the King stumbled and fell, his crowned helmet falling of his head and left at the mercy of the criminal. Steve struck him in the chest with all his might with his shield and the King's scream of agony echoed over the battlefield. Presuming the King to be dead, Steve went into hiding with the rest of the living rebels and Winter Soldier.” 

Stephen paused for a second and gazed down at Fenrir by his feet. The story had Peter at the edge of his seat and he waited impatiently for the King to continue.

“I saw everything with my own eyes, as I happened to be visiting when the challenge was announced. However, I could not ride alongside Anthony, as much as I would have wanted to. It was a matter between Anthony and his people. A civil war. It was a test of the King's credibility and he had to face it himself. It would not have been right for me to intervene.  
Once the rebels fled and the battle was over, I rushed to Anthony and had his bloody and shattered figure brought back to the Danish castle. I oversaw his treatment for as long as I could, until my royal duties at home in Sweden could not be ignored any longer without my people suffering. My wolf-dog at the time, Skadi, stayed by Anthony's side as he slept. Luckily, I could return soon and was by the King's side when he finally awoke from his deep sleep, which lasted for two months. The chest injury did not leave any permanent damage, but did leave him with a large scar. He is proud of it and what it says about him as a King. I am sure you have noticed the circular embroidery on many of his suits? It is to remind the people that he was tested and came out as a victor.”

“It must be Odin.” Said Peter as Stephen fell silent. “No one can survive to tell the story of how their chest was crushed by a shield otherwise!”

“Well, I did.” A voice from behind Peter startled him and he turned to see none other than the man himself. The Stark King. Anthony stood confidently with his feet firmly planted on the floor and chin high. Stephen snorted at the Dane's entrance. 

“Tony, you are being melodramatic.” The Swede stated casually. 

“You would not want me any other way, Steph.” The Dane teased and sat down on the armrest of Stephen's chair. 

“No, I would not.” Stephen admitted and extended his neck to kiss the man next to him sweetly on the lips. Peter was stunned in his seat and averted his eyes from the scene in front of him. He knew that the three Scandinavian kingdoms cooperated very closely for the benefit of all three countries. The romantic aspect of the cooperation was a shock for Peter to see and he felt his ears burning. 

“Are we making you uncomfortable, dear Prince?” Stephen asked with his large hand on top of Anthony's thigh, squeezing and stroking him as if it was the most natural thing. “Anthony told me while you slept that you did not seem uncomfortable during your sword training this morning. And I cannot recall you being uncomfortable at the lake either. Am I correct, Peter?” The King's teasing voice echoed in the quiet library. 

It was not the intimacy in itself. It was the realisation of what was occurring behind closed doors. Sweet nothings whispered into ears, comforting touches, the warmth of another body and the use of nicknames that others would be beheaded for uttering. Peter swallowed thickly, clenching and unclenching his now clammy hands. Could he have such a sentimental life behind closed doors and at the same time be a great King in the eyes of the Norwegian people?

“While the Prince finds his tongue, may I add some details to the story?” Anthony asked, but gave the two others no time to answer before he started adding to Stephen's story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Cap lovers, I am making him such a bad guy here ahah
> 
> Anthony's hawk Hábrók: known as the best hawk in Midgard  
> Anthony's horse Orvar: "arrow" in Old Norse, a legendary Norse hero  
> Stephen's previous wolf-dog Skadi: “damage, harm” in Old Norse, she was a mountain giantess associated with winter and skiing


	7. Chapter 7 - The Fright and Comfort in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter accepts Anthony´s offer and goes to his rooms during the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this: Or Nah - SoMo

Another thunderstorm was slowly making its way to the Norwegian castle grounds. It was a sign that summer was ending and autumn was taking its place. As the thunder grew louder, so did the conflicting thoughts in Peter's mind. He had not fallen asleep after retiring for the night, but lay on his large bed restless and frustrated. What he had learnt today left him more conflicted than he had ever felt in his life.  
On one hand, he wanted a life free from the heavy responsibilities of the crown. To be with whoever he wanted to be with, without his character being questioned for being sentimental or weak. On the other hand, he wanted to make his parents proud. Become the King that they wanted him to be. He was their only heir after all. If he did not take the crown, who would? Norway would fall into chaos. The trickster god would see the mayhem and make it even worse. The fjords, the mountains, the valleys. They would all burn, like a recreation of Ragnarok.  
Anthony and Stephen would feel betrayed and would surely turn their back to Peter and the Norwegian people. The thought of disappointing the two Kings made the Prince's heart ache. After all the effort and time they had already put into him and were going to in the future. How could he live his life with any honour if he turned his back to the two extraordinary men?  
Most importantly, Peter had to take the throne because otherwise he would never go to Valhalla, where his parents were waiting for him.  
High above in the stormy clouds, a lightning bolt cut through the air and the thunder had the ground shaking. Peter jumped on his bed and sat up, adrenaline tingling in his veins. It was as if the thunder god had agreed with the decision he had came to. 

The thunder outside emptied Peter's mind completely, leaving a cold and lonely feeling to creep up on him in his dark room. He remembered what Anthony had said, that he could come to his chambers if he felt scared. The thought made Peter feel silly. He was not a child, but the thought of a warm body next to him was very tempting. Slipping down from the bed and into one of his silky gowns, Peter made his way to the door and out into the hall. The halls were empty and dimly lit by a few candles. The guest chambers were further down the hall and Peter found himself walking there in a fast pace. A little out of breath, Peter hesitated outside of Anthony's door. He pressed his forehead against the cool wood and closed his eyes, imagining the King in his bed like he had seen him earlier. Finally knocking, Peter waited a second before opening the heavy door. 

“Tony?” The Prince whispered gently into the candle lit room, surprised that the King was not asleep at such a late hour. He tip-toed around to the undraped side of the bed, freezing once he saw the bed. Anthony and Stephen were both naked on the bed, tangled around each other and the sheets. They were kissing one another lustfully, grinding their hips together and huffing softly. The Danish King turned his eyes on the Prince, while Stephen trailed kisses down his chest. 

“Peter! Startled by the thunder, were we?” 

“I ummm- I should leave.” Peter stuttered, his ears burning more hotly than ever before. 

“No, please join us.” Said the Swede, flopping down on the bed, his half-hard cock visible through the thin sheet.

“Be our little whore for the night.” Added the Dane in a purr. 

The title went straight to Peter's cock. It felt like he had no control over his own body and it was pure instinct that made him crawl into bed in between the two Kings. He still had his silky gown on, but it was loosely tied and slipping from his shoulders. He was laying on his stomach and looking at the older men while resting on his forearms. The position made Peter's back and ass curve beautifully. The two Kings lapped up the sight of the Prince with hungry eyes, trailing over his body. 

“That is much better.” Anthony spoke softly, cupping Peter's chin with a warm hand and stroking his cheek with his thumb. “A Prince should not be alone during such a dreadful night.” 

Peter melted into the gentle touch, leaning into it and moaning softly when the King moved his hand to pull on the Prince's curls. 

“Have you taken cock before, Peter?” Stephen asked, flicking the silky gown out of the way at Peter's hip to reveal his ass. Not trusting his voice, Peter shook his head in a reply. 

“Oh… A sweet and unspoiled fruit for us to enjoy.” The Swede said to the Dane with a wicked smirk. With his hair still in Anthony's firm grasp, Peter felt his head being tilted towards Stephen to take the two fingers he was offering into his mouth. Eager to impress and please the Kings, Peter sucked on Stephen's fingers dutifully and got them thoroughly wet. As he did so, Anthony pulled the gown off of him, leaving him completely nude. Stephen trailed his long fingers down Peter's spine, making him buck his hips and spread his legs to welcome the wet fingers. First, they circled the rosy bud and then a finger was pressed in. Peter choked out a moan, but it was quickly silenced by Anthony kissing him. The kiss was rough and full of lust. Slowly working the young Prince open, Stephen added another finger and scissored him. Peter had to pull away from the kiss and groaned out. The sensation was a new one to Peter, even though he had toyed with himself before like the curious boy that he was. The King's fingers felt marvellous, almost magical. 

“Fucking hell…” He muttered, his muscles quivering when Stephen brushed lightly against his prostate. 

“Let us see if you truly are a cock whore, like Tony said.” The Swedish King said huskily, pressing his leaking cock against Peter's hole. Two steady hands were placed on Peter's hips to keep him still. 

The Prince shivered, once more not trusting his voice to say anything and just pressed himself back against the King in anticipation. Both men groaned as Stephen pressed his tip into the tight ring of muscle.

“Relax, Peter. Just take it in.” Anthony instructed, meeting Peter's hooded eyes. Obeying, Peter relaxed himself as much as he could and whined when Stephen slipped deeper into him. “There. Good boy…”

“Fuck, you feel so good.” The Swede huffed and pulled back, before thrusting back in with more force. Peter felt so full and whimpered, his leaking cock and balls heavy between his legs. 

“You are doing so good, sweet Prince. Does it feel good? It bet it does to a little cock whore like you.” Anthony whispered in his ear, biting his earlobe playfully. “You want some more?”

The Dane rose onto his knees in front of Peter, tilting his flushed face up to take his cock. A deep satisfaction filled Peter as he took in both of the Kings. To be downgraded, played around with and fucked to hell and back by the Kings was the greatest honour Peter could think of. He could nearly cry. 

“I need… I need you both inside me.” Peter choked out as he pulled away from Anthony. Realising what the Prince meant, the Dane shook his head. 

“That would hurt you, boy. You would have to gape wide for us.”

“I may have a trick to make that possible.” Stephen said hoarsely, pulling out of Peter. 

Both Peter and Anthony turned to look as Stephen muttered a few words under this breath. Golden circular patterns of light assembled at the King's forearm, slowly spinning and making their way down to his wrist, growing smaller as they did. Stopping at the knuckles of his fingers, the circular patterns kept spinning slowly. Anthony gently pushed Peter down on his back and the young man immediately lifted and spread his legs. Peter's mind was too hazy with arousal to comprehend the magic that he was witnessing. Bringing his fingers to Peter's hole once more, Stephen pushed two fingers in and scissored him. The sensation was not as satisfying as being filled with a cock, but Peter nonetheless gasped in his breaths. After a moment or two, the spell had made the Prince gape wide enough for both the Kings to fuck him. 

“Please, please, please…” Begged Peter, wondering if the magic was also making him more aroused, because he felt like he was about to explode like an overripe fruit.

Moving next to Stephen at the foot of the bed, the two Kings exchanged a wicked look before pushing themselves into the whimpering Prince. The dream had predicted correctly, as Peter cried with pleasure as both Kings pounded into him. His whimpers became more and more high-pitched and frequent as he neared his release. Anthony was a flushed mess, his bottom lip nearly bleeding from biting it so hard. Stephen's hair was tousled and falling into his eyes. The older men did not hold back and pounded into the Prince, the spell protecting him from any harm. With two hard thrusts, Peter was pushed over the edge and came long and hard. The Prince saw stars, as streaks of cum painted his chest and stomach. Both Kings came a moment later, groaning and shuddering as Peter's spasms squeezed their cocks together.  
Peter felt utterly worn, but grinned with satisfaction with half closed eyes. He felt a gaping sensation as the Kings pulled out of him and heard their low voices. Something about the spell wearing off in a moment. 

“Come, Peter. You cannot fall asleep just yet.” Anthony whispered to him, wrapping his arms around him. The bed dipped on the other side and then a cold cloth was gently cleaning his chest, stomach and then between his ass cheeks. The coldness seemed to startled the Prince and he opened his eyes, flicking his gaze back and forth between the two Kings. 

“There. Now you can rest.” 

They both had a soft expression, which made Peter's heart swell. His eyelids felt incredibly heavy, as did his whole body. As the thunderstorm died down outside, the Prince fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, embraced by Anthony on one side and Stephen on the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strange fans will know that he has some /strange/ sex with aliens and all that shit ahah
> 
> Thank you for leaving kudos and comments, but please don't be shy to comment more heh I really do need some help picking a pet for Peter. Thinking a fox, but not sure so please leave your suggestions below <3


	8. Chapter 8 - The Expectations and Responsibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kings are preparing for departure and the Prince grows anxious in the throne room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this: Cruel World - Seeb
> 
> Also I made a side blog to post some mood boards that I made along with this fic. Please do check them out https://professional-benaddict.tumblr.com/

The following week was one of the best in Peter's life, as far as he could remember. His training for the responsibilities of the crown continued with daily sword training with the Danish King and lectures with the Swedish King in the library. In addition, the Prince had multiple meetings with the courtiers to become more familiar with them and the kind of tasks he could assign them as King. At the end of each day, Peter found himself exhausted. Occasionally, he would sleep in his own chambers, but most nights he spent with one of the Kings or both of them. During those nights spent together, the Prince learnt more about the two Kings. The Danish King, for instance, liked to face Peter during their heated love making. He said he loved to see Peter's eyes roll back when he cummed. Anthony was also a dirty talker, Peter discovered, and he would whisper the filthiest things in Peter's ear, which had him moaning loudly.  
The Swedish King, on the other hand, was a sweeter lover and Peter loved when he ran his long fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp gently and lulling him to sleep after their love making. When Peter asked about the magic that he had revealed during their first night together, Stephen gave him a mysterious look and said.

“They do not call me the Strange King for nothing.”

The King had told that during his youth, he experienced a dilemma. He was reluctant to take the throne, finding traveling and adventuring to far away places far more appealing. One day, he simply decided to leave the Swedish castle and traveled for nearly a year, spending most of that year in Kathmandu. In the mountains there, he found the Ancient One, who taught him magic spells, mostly healing ones but also some offensive spells to defeat opponents with. However, the King stressed that the most important thing he learnt from the Ancient One was that “it is not about you”. Stephen said he had realised how selfish he had acted for leaving his people behind and returned to Sweden to take the responsibilities of the crown. To make up for the time he had spent away, the King explained that he felt obligated to use the magic he had learnt for good and spent many nights visiting and healing sick peasants.  
When Peter asked whether the other rumours were true as well, that he had used magic during battles, Stephen gave him a more serious look before answering.

“I admit to it, but I only used the offensive spells as a last, desperate option. I do not enjoy taking lives, but during that battle, the zealots would have summoned something terrible to our kingdom if they had won. I was not a sorcerer, nor am I one now, but I knew that they had to be stopped at all costs, even if that meant that my people believed that I was a sorcerer.” 

Peter nodded thoughtfully and let the topic be. However, the Prince thought about it by himself multiple times and each time he found that what the King had done was admirable. He had risked his reputation as King to protect his people from the attacking zealots. The Prince wondered if he could ever do something similar as King.  
Now that his training was moving ahead at a fast pace, Peter found himself pondering more and more what the ancient gods had planned for him once he was sat on the King's throne. Glorious battles which the Norwegian people would sing and tell stories about for centuries to come? Would he become so beloved that parents would ask him to bless their babes which they had named after him? Will Odin see what a good King he is and welcome him to Valhalla to see his parents once his time comes? The most admired and memorable Kings and Queens were named by the people for an action or trait that made them exceptional. What would he be known as? 

Peter pondering on this for hours, wandering the halls until he found himself in the throne room. The room was the largest and most beautiful in the castle, with a ceiling that was at least five metres tall. On the ceiling, there were paintings of the ancient gods. They told stories and Peter knew most of them by heart. Odin, the All-father, was made the largest and most glorious, positioned above the thrones at the end of the hall. Like a river of blood, a deep red carpet stretched across the polished floors from the entry to the thrones. As one walked the carpet, one could see the portraits of old Kings and Queens on the walls, the newest paintings being of King Richard and Queen Mary. They both looked proud and proper, dressed in the most luxurious outfits made of deep red fabric and golden threaded details. His father wore the fur of a bear he had killed on his back, his right hand resting on the sword in his belt, while his mother appeared more gentle in her sitting position with her hands clasped in her lap and a friendly smile on her face. 

The Prince felt uneasy under the gaze of the paintings, a cold sweat prickling his skin. His knees became weak as he felt all the expectations and responsibilities wash over him like ocean waves during a storm. Trying to avoid the gazes of his parents, Peter looked over the large hall and his eyes fell on the table to the left, where his current crown was resting on a pillow. Next to it was the King's crown, his father’s crown. His future crown. Cursing and tugging at his hair, Peter wished from the bottom of his heart that his parents would step out of their lifeless shells on the hideous paintings and embrace him. 

“Mine will be larger.” 

Peter turned and his eyes fell on Anthony, who had seemingly entered the throne room without a sound. Or perhaps Peter's panicked breathing was so loud that he did not hear him entering. The King was studying the portraits, his hands clasped behind his back in a relaxed pose. However, he knit his brows in a puzzled look once he looked at Peter properly. 

“Are you alright, my Prince?” Anthony asked, approaching Peter and laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“No! I… I cannot! It is too great.” Peter exclaimed in a broken voice and stepped away from Anthony. He gestured at the paintings. 

“I think they could be larger.” The Dane said, still seeming very puzzled by Peter's current state. 

“It is not that. Dammit! I cannot handle this. I cannot live up to… to this! Alone up there? The whole kingdom on my shoulders? I- I apologise, Tony. I have wasted both your and Stephen's time and I cannot- I cannot…” Peter blurted out, choking on his words as he sobbed. 

Like approaching a frightened and wounded animal, Anthony kept his voice gentle and movements slow as he approached the frantic Prince. First, he grasped Peter's shaking hands, kissing them softly. Then, slowly he moved his hands up the Prince's arms, holding onto his shoulders to steady him before embracing him. Peter cried his heart out on the King's shoulder, his sobs and hiccups echoing in the empty throne room. 

“It is alright, my sweetness.” The King shushed softly, stroking Peter's head and kissing his temple. “Cry, my Prince. Let it out. It is alright.” 

As Anthony kept whispering sweet nothings in Peter's ear, the younger man started to calm down, the tension in his body easing off. His sobs died down and his shaking form stilled as he started breathing slower. A few silent tears still fell down his cheeks, but he wiped them away with the back of his hand. Peter stepped away from the King's shoulder, but still kept his hands on his chest and let his forehead rest against his lips. The King's facial hair ticked his skin, reminding him of a hedgehog. 

“Listen, Peter. I understand that this is too much to ask of an ordinary boy, but I have seen what you are capable of during these two weeks. You have remarkable potential and have made great process already.” The King explained and Peter felt a blush creep up on him, and not just because of the crying. 

“The crown is heavy with responsibility, but Stephen and I are here to guide you. It is alright to be frightened, however you must also trust yourself and your abilities.” Anthony said and cupped Peter's cheeks, pulling him into a sweet kiss. The King dominated the kiss, tilting and guiding Peter's head with his large and warm hands. Peter felt like he was floating on a soft cloud. Pulling away slowly, like he did not want the kiss to end, the King finished by saying. 

“Some Princes do not become Kings, but I know in my heart and soul that you will become a great one.” 

Resting his head against the King's chest, Peter inhaled and exhaled deeply. His words had planted a seed of hope in him and he looked up at Anthony with a hopeful smile. The sight of the Prince, with his tousled hair, flushed cheeks and red eyes tugged at Anthony’s heart. 

“Thank you, my King. Tony.” Peter said softly, raising on his toes to kiss Anthony once more. 

“You are quite welcome. Come, now. Stephen and I still have a few final things to teach you before we start leaving for home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 1000 hits! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you are enjoying what I am putting out here. Let me know what you think in the comments.


	9. Chapter 9 - The Fugitive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A man comes to the castle and wishes to speak to Anthony, Stephen and Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this: Varúð - Sigur Ros

“I will send over a man, whom I consider my right hand, to continue your training. His name is Wong and remember not to make jokes around him. Trying to make him laugh will turn out futile, trust me, but do not let him intimidate you.” Peter nodded and moved to pet Fenrir as he nudged his snout into his palm. The wolf-dog yawned, his mighty canines on display. Peter chuckled softly and gave him a good scratch behind his ear. He was going to miss Fenrir. 

“And I will send over James Rhodes. He will be continuing the sword training in my place. Like I said before, he will give me detailed reports of your progress.” Said Anthony and reached for his glass of wine. 

“As will Wong.” Added Stephen. 

The three royals were gathered in the library with their wine by the fireplace. The nights were growing more chilly and the sun provided less and less warmth now that autumn had arrived. The winds were also growing stronger, creating spirals of yellow and orange leaves on the fields surrounding the castle. Looking at Fenrir, Peter figured his fur must start becoming thicker and warmer very soon.  
The two Kings were sat on a sofa for two across from Peter. They both wore a smile, but there was a sadness in their eyes. The two Kings were starting their long journey home the following day. Peter kept his replies short and tried his hardest to avoid the gazes of Anthony and Stephen. He dreaded the though of spending the cold autumn and winter nights alone in his chambers, without a warm body on each of his sides. There was a lump in his throat, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He was going to be left alone, again. Sensing the grim atmosphere, Stephen leaned forwards in his seat. 

“We will return as soon as the circumstances allow it. It will take a couple of months, but we will be here once more before midwinter. You have learnt at a remarkable pace during these two weeks, and I- we both believe you are more than capable of taking some of the responsibilities during our absence. The courtiers will assist you, however you have to keep an eye on them. Some of the courtiers are not on your side and I highly advise you to reassign them. Now, a handful of other things to keep in mind-“ 

The Swedish King was interrupted by sharp and quick knocks on the library door. Leaving the royals no time to welcome them in, a servant burst in. The young woman was out of breath from her sprint and spoke with a shaky voice. 

“Your Majesties. There is a man here who wishes to speak to you.” 

“Whom?” Peter asked as all three stood from their seats. Fenrir stood up as well, his tail wagging from side to side in tense movements. 

“He called himself Captain of Denmark, your Majesty.” 

The three royals made their way through the halls, with Anthony nearly running and Peter and Stephen a step behind him. Fenrir was trotting not far behind them. The Dane was clenching his fists and Peter saw how their turned white as bone. 20 years did not seem like enough time to heal the emotional hurt of his chest injury. 

“Bring our armour, prepare the horses and ready the men! This traitor of a man is dangerous.” Anthony barked at a passing servant and they hurried to fulfil the command. By the time they made it to the entrance hall, Anthony was breathing heavily, his eyes burning with fury. 

“Tony.” Stephen whispered for no one to hear besides him and Peter. “You must control yourself. What does he want?” 

“To cause trouble like the son of a bitch that he is!” Anthony barked again, not caring about who heard him. Peter winced quietly, feeling incredibly anxious. He had no idea what to do besides follow the two Kings like a dog. 

The Swede did not seem amused with the Dane's tone and grasped his upper arm firmly. “Either way, you must control your temper. If we play this right, no blood will be shed.” 

“No, only his will.” Anthony said finally as their armour was brought over to them. Multiple servants helped secure the armour on each of the royals. As a final touch, crimson capes were added and they made their way out of the castle. Outside, Grani, Frea and Orvar were saddled and prepared with light armouring. A servant passed the reins over to each of the horses´ masters. It had been a while since Peter had seen Grani, as he had been very busy with his training, and he was delighted to see him, even under such chaotic circumstances. He greeted his steed and patted his neck in a comforting gesture as Grani sensed the tense atmosphere. All three horses were stomping their hooves and huffing, ready for action when their riders commanded so. 

Anthony and Stephen had gathered their own guards and they stood amongst the Norwegian guards and knights. Horsemen with swords, bowmen and men with spears were all present, looking like a miniature army. Three guards bore the banners of each kingdom and they flapped high in the wind. Above in the sky, dark clouds were gathering. The air smelled damp, another storm was approaching. Anthony ushered his steed, Orvar, ahead and addressed the crowd. 

“The traitor, Steve Rogers, also known as Captain of Denmark is here. He wishes to speak to us, but I know in my heart that he has other intentions. He tried to dismantle the Danish throne, my throne, and now he is here to dismantle the Norwegian throne. Will you defend your Prince and future King from this cowardly fugitive?”

The crowd roared in response to the King's word. Shivers ran down Peter's spine as all eyes where on him and the guards and knights cheered him and shouted his name. The Prince gave Stephen a puzzled look. The King chuckled and puffed his chest out and raised his chin. Peter copied the pose and the crowd’s cheering grew louder, beating their shields and swords together. The cheering died down as the Danish King addressed them once more, pacing back and forth in front of them with Orvar. 

“This man is a criminal who has not been punished for his crimes. At my signal, destroy every single man who stands by his side. Capture Rogers alive, as I will punish him myself in whatever manner I see fit. Now, onwards!” 

The crowd gave one last loud cheer before following the King. Peter and Stephen joined Anthony at the head of the troops. They made quite the contrast with their white horses, shining armour and deep red capes to the dark browns and greys of the forces behind them. Like in the entrance hall, Stephen got as close to Anthony as possible and spoke in a hushed, but firm voice. 

“Tony, you cannot do this. You are King of Denmark, but not of Norway. Even if Peter is still a Prince, he is the head of this land, which both you and Steve Rogers are standing on. Whatever you want to do to Rogers, you must get permission from the Prince.”

Anthony gestured for Orvar to halt and turned him towards Peter. “My Prince, will you allow me to do whatever is needed with Steve Rogers and his men?” His tone was odd, and Peter could not quite figure out if he was serious. The King's eyes were clouded with anger, as was his mind, and he waited impatiently for the Prince to reply. 

“I-…” Peter stammered. All he knew about the man named Captain of Denmark was the rumours he had heard and what the two Kings had told him. He had never met the man himself, never had the chance to make his own opinion on the man. All he knew was based on other people’s experiences and interpretations. Was it right for him to allow the bloodshed that Anthony so badly wanted? What if Steve Rogers was an innocent man? The two Kings had made poor decisions and mistakes in the past. Was the harsh treatment of the fugitive one of them? Or was it justified?  
Peter felt meek under the Danish King's raging stare. The Prince was unable to utter any of his thoughts and could only swallowed thickly. 

“He is not ready for it.” Said Anthony, addressing Stephen. “I fear that we were wrong about the boy.” He said, disappointment written on his face as he prompted his steed forwards. 

Stephen was stunned and looked at Peter, but the young man would not meet his eyes. Anthony’s words had bit the Prince like a rabid dog. Peter's dropped his head in defeat, feeling utterly discouraged. The seed of hope that the King had planted in him in the throne room perished inside of him. Ignoring Stephen calling his name, Peter drew blood from biting the inside of his cheek and gestured for Grani to continue head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cap lovers are not gonna like whats coming ahah. Again, thank you for reading and please do let me know what you think by commenting.


	10. Chapter 10 - The Dead Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stever Rogers makes an offer and brings a warning to the Kings and Prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this: Our Church - Headhunterz & Sub Zero Project

The messenger had informed them that Steve and his men were waiting in the area where the field ended and the forest began in the north. It was a strategic spot, as the dense trees right behind them provided a fast hiding place if events went poorly. Stopping at the top of a small hill, Peter and the two Kings saw a group of armed men half a kilometre ahead. The Kings whispered something between one another and then to two guards. They nodded and returned to the troops. As they continued approaching the crowd, a man at the front caught Peter's attention, even though his mind was swirling with what Anthony had said about him.  
The man was blonde and fair, his hair nearly reaching his shoulders. His beard was thick, but untrimmed. The men behind him seemed ragged, with dirty faces and torn clothes. But the man Peter had his eyes on, whom he assumed was Steve Rogers himself, had a proper looking uniform. It was navy blue, with red and white details. He bore a sword on his hip, but his preferred weapon appeared to be the infamous shield on his left forearm. The same one that he had nearly killed Anthony with 20 years ago.  
Beside him, was a dark looking soldier, with untamed raven black hair. He wore heavy black boots and a black mask that covered the bottom half of his face. The man wore no weapons, at least that Peter could see from afar, but when the man turned Peter gasped to himself as he saw the metal arm of the soldier. It was the mercenary that Steve hired for the Danish Civil War, known as the Winter Soldier.  
The three royals and their troops halted when they were about a hundred metres from Steve and his men. They had no horses and were easily outnumbered by the royal troops. The banner men made their way to Peter, Stephen and Anthony. Peter's banner man spoke first. 

“Announcing Peter, son of Richard, and Prince of Norway!” 

The Prince tried his hardest to appear as royal as possible, but he found little strength to do so. His discourage was worsened by the mocking look that Steve gave him. None of his men seemed impressed either, spitting at the ground and snickering among themselves. Peter sighed in relief when Stephen's banner man stepped forward and spoke, so that the eyes were off of him.

“Announcing Stephen, son of Eugene, and King of Sweden!”

Looking at the Swede, Peter saw that his back was straight as a rod, his chin high and stern eyes looking right at Steve ahead of him. He looked kingly, like the portraits in the throne room. The men behind Steve shifted uncomfortably. 

“Announcing Anthony, son of Howard, and King of Denmark!” Anthony's banner man announced lastly and once more, the fugitive's men quivered in fear. Peter hoped that his enemies would fear him as well, but doubted it would happen any time soon. If at all. 

“Tony. You look well, for a dead man.” Steve said, stepping forward. 

“I am your King! Address me as such, traitor!” Anthony barked and urged Orvar closer. 

“I only answer to one lord, the one and only almighty God, and the forms he takes as Jesus and the Holy Spirit.” The fugitive answered calmly. He did not appear intimidated by the Danish King and his raging attitude. 

“What nonsense are you talking about? The holy what?” Anthony demanded, looking unimpressed. 

“Your gods are dead, Yggdrasil is rotten and Valhalla has crumbled to dust. I did not come here to have another battle. I humbly come and offer you the chance to join our Christian faith.” Steve said with his palms open and gestured to his men. 

“Is it not enough for you to go against your King, but you must also turn against the gods? Your arrogance has no limits, Rogers. None!” Anthony spat his words out like venom. “You say you wish no war, but you bring that monster here! That sounds like another declaration of war to me, just like 20 years ago.” The King said, drawing his sword and pointing it at the Winter Soldier. 

“Anthony!” Stephen shouted and rushed with Frea to stand in front of him. “You cannot do this! Let us hear him out.” He reasoned and was relieved when the Dane lowered his sword. However, he kept his eyes firmly locked on Steve. 

Moving his steed next to Anthony, Stephen raised his voice and addressed Steve. “What is this offer you speak of and why did you come here with it?” 

“The Norwegian people are unhappy. They know that their fairytale gods are dead and this pathetic excuse of a future King will not lead them to glory. They need a new and true leader. After Tony banished me from Denmark, I traveled across Europe. During my travels, I found the true and almighty God. He forgave my sins and I am now a new man, dedicating my life to spread his message. To savour whoever wants to be savoured from the eternal flames of hell and bring them to God in heaven.” 

Peter saw how each word that Steve uttered made Anthony more and more furious, his knuckles white as he clutched his sword and Orvar´s reins. The veins at his temple and neck were pulsing visibly, looking like they were about to burst. As Peter watched from behind, he started to form an opinion on the fugitive man. Obnoxious, was one word that came to his mind at least. Steve continued, with the same calmness and confidence. 

“I bring you this offer because only the almighty God can save us from Thanos, the tsar of Russia. He is preparing his enormous army for war, I have seen it myself, and there is no stopping him unless we unite under our one true God.”

“Are you saying we should turn a blind eye to your crimes for going against the Danish throne and fight by your side like brothers?” Stephen asked before Anthony had the time to make a snark remark. 

“God has forgiven my sins and we are all equals under his watch. Once you accept his love and let yourself be judged for your sins, we can ride into battle as brothers.” Steve said. 

“Why have you turned against the ancient gods, Rogers?” The Swede continued his questioning, positioning his horse slightly in front of Anthony's to prevent him from storming down Steve. “The god you describe resembles the All-father.”

“Like I said, they are dead. Just like Tony should be, if you, witch, had not intervened.” 

Steve's comment was the last straw for the Danish King and he urged Orvar onto his hind legs. His steed neighed loudly and stomped his hooves on the ground. Frea stepped back in fright, much to the annoyance of the Swedish King. 

“I have heard enough from you, traitor! Onwards!” Anthony commanded and rode towards Steve along with his war-crying men. 

The noises of neighing horses, clanking swords and roaring men was overwhelming and painful to the ears. Peter could do little else, but watch the chaos unfold. He saw multiple of Steve's poorly armoured men be killed, whether it be by a spear through the chest, a sword cutting their heads off or run over by horses. The green field was quickly dyed almost black by spilled blood. It seemed that most of Steve's men were escaping into the woods and that the royal forces had the upper hand.  
The Prince could not find the two Kings, however, and he felt a knot of worry tug on his insides. He searched the crowd frantically with his eyes and did not immediately notice the man that was approaching him from the battle. The Winter Soldier. His hands were covered in blood and it dripped down onto the grass as he walked in long strides towards him. Peter could see nothing but murderous intent in his dark eyes. Without a second thought, Peter urged Grani into a gallop and dashed in the opposite direction, not looking back as he rode through the field, passed the lake and continued deeper into the forest than he had ever before in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am intertwining actual historical events here, where Christianity arrived in Scandinavia and replaced the Norse culture and faith in the 8th to the 12th century. Tony is very reluctant to take on the new faith, as most common folk were as their lives were heavily influenced and based on the Norse faith and culture. So it took nearly 150-200 years for Scandinavian societies to become Christian. Until this day, Norway, Denmark and Sweden remain Christian countries, which can be seen by the cross in the flags.  
> Personally I find this transitioning devastating, because first of all it was violent, with people being forced to take on the Christian faith or die. But also because I find the Norse gods to be much richer, more fascinating and relatable than the Christian God. The Norse gods had good and bad characteristics, which I find creates much more entertaining and realistic stories. Highly recommend that you look into them. The description of Ragnarok is my favourite.  
> Again, thank you for reading and I really want to hear what you think of my work.


	11. Chapter 11 - The Helping Paw and Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter accepts help from someone, as well as helps someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this: I Won't Hurt You - The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band

Thunder was rumbling in the distance and it echoed in the dead silent forest. The silence was broken by Grani´s laboured breathing and his hooves hitting the forest floor as they dashed through the trees. Peter had let go of the reins long ago and had wrapped his arms around Grani´s neck, sobbing into his grey mane.  
He kept seeing the bloody images of the battle, hearing the pained cries of the injured and dying and the comments Anthony and Steve had said about him in his head. The sounds and voices were overlapping one another, like Peter's skull was full of angry bees. His armour was too tight, making it hard for him to breathe. Prompting his steed to a stop, Peter nearly fell of his back and to the ground. With shaking fingers, Peter undid the straps of the armour. The process seemed endless, like there were a million straps. Finally he got the largest chest piece off and heaved in long breaths of air on his knees. Looking down in his lap, he saw that he had cut his palms and fingers open from the frantic attempts at removing the armour. 

“Are you truly dead? Odin!” Peter cried desperately. “Thor, Frigga, Balder, Heimdall, Njord! Have you abandoned me? Just like everyone else does!” He shouted out, without getting a reply. Hiccups and sobs had the Prince's shoulders shaking and he put his head in his bloody hands. 

The quiet forest offered no comfort, only a cold breeze and thunder that grew louder each time it rumbled in the sky above. Peter did not recognise this part of the forest and he doubted he could find his way back after paying no attention to where Grani was riding. His steed might know the way home, but the idea of returning was not tempting to the Prince. At the castle, more responsibilities awaited him. Ones that Anthony did not find him fit to take care of.  
He had failed both Kings. The gods were as good as dead to Peter, as he was not going to see them, nor his parents, in Valhalla. Perhaps Steve was right, that he had found the true God. The Prince punched the forest floor with his bloodied hands and only stopped when he heard leaves rustling behind him. Flipping around and clumsily drawing his sword, Peter chuckled bitterly and fell back on the forest floor. 

“Did Stephen tell you to follow me?” 

Fenrir made his way over to Peter and licked his cheek in a comforting gesture. However, a chill ran down Peter's spine when the wolf-dog answered in his rumbling voice. It reminded him of thunder, but he had a hint of worry in his tone this time. 

“I do not always obey my master. I, like all beings in Midgard, have free will. I simply wished to ensure your safety and well-being, Richardson.” 

“I appreciate it, Fenrir.” The Prince said and dried his tear stained cheeks with the backs of his hands. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, the Prince sat up. “Thank you.”

The wolf-dog bowed his head, but grew suddenly very curious once he saw Peter's injured hands. He sniffed at them first and then licked his large and wet tongue over the cuts. The Prince jumped at first, but stopped himself from pulling his hands away when he felt the pain dying down. Fenrir sat back and Peter gasped when he saw that his palms and fingers were completely healed. They did not even have scars. 

“My master taught me some of his healing spells, but most of my powers I was born with.” The wolf-dog explained briefly, looking quite pleased with himself and enjoying the baffled look of Peter's face. 

“Wait, most powers? What exactly can you do?” The Prince asked, looking at his palms once more, even rubbing at them and found them completely normal.

However, Fenrir did not answer Peter's burning question. He simply stated that it was getting late and started leading the way back to the castle. With a grunt, the Prince got up and gathered up his armour before getting back on Grani´s back and following the wolf-dog. 

The forest was becoming darker and darker as Peter, Grani and Fenrir made their way to the castle. The clouds above looked dark and heavy with rain. It would not be long before it would start pouring. After walking for a while, Peter started recognising that this was the area close to May's cottage. As the first rain drops started falling, Fenrir suddenly halted and looked around with keen eyes. 

“Someone is hurt.”

“Is it one of Steve's men?” Peter asked, looking around. He felt suddenly very foolish for dashing into the forest without thinking that Steve's men might have hid here and harmed him. He was particularly vulnerable in his emotional state. However, Grani seemed calm and did not sense anything dangerous. 

“It is not a man.” Fenrir stated and began sniffing the ground, making his way over to a bush. Digging his large snout under the dense branches, he pulled out a brown small creature by the skin of its neck. “It says it has been abandoned.” 

Fenrir rose onto his hind legs and Peter reached down to take the small animal in his hands. Looking closer at it, the Prince recognised it to be a fox kit. The kit yelped and whined in his grasp, seeking his warmth. The rain grew heavier and Peter unbuttoned his suit to tuck the kit against his chest. 

“I know where we can go.” Peter said and turned Grani towards May's cottage. It was pouring heavily by the time they got to the cottage, so heavily one could barely see ten metres ahead. After guiding Grani to some shelter outside, Peter and Fenrir ran inside the cottage, not bothering with knocking. The cottage was dark and quiet. May must have retired for the night, Peter thought to himself. Taking of his dripping suit carefully as not to drop the kit, Peter tucked the small animal under his white undershirt. In the meantime, Fenrir was shaking the water off his fur in vigorous shakes. 

“Aunt May?” Peter called out softly, stepping into the sitting area of the cottage. Down the hall, he saw a small candle light and a short blade flashing in the light.

“Aunt May, its just me!” Peter said in a whisper, as not to startle his old nanny. She jumped nonetheless and Peter saw her puzzled looking face as she stepped closer with the candle. She was barefoot, dressed him her nightgown and holding the dagger in a shaking fist. 

“Peter! You frightened me. What are you doing here in the middle of the- Oh! What is that?” May yelped as she spotted Fenrir next to Peter. 

“Oh, this is such a long story. Can we sit down?”

They settled down by the table in the kitchen with steaming cups of tea. After introducing Fenrir and May to one another, the nanny petted him generously and offered him some bones, which were the left-overs of her supper earlier that evening. The wolf-dog was now on the floor, gnawing on the bones in content. May had put her dagger away before lighting a few candles in the kitchen. The small room felt quite cozy.  
The Prince was just about to start explaining, when a yelp from Peter's shirt caught the attention of both May and Peter. He had nearly forgotten the fox kit in his exhausted state. 

“Oh, forgive me, little one.” Peter said and pulled his shirt aside to reveal the snout and eyes of the kit. It looked around with wide, black eyes and despite Peter's warmth, it was shaking. 

“Oh my! How adorable. Was it abandoned? Poor darling, out in the thunder and rain all alone.” May cooed and leaned in closer to get a look at the kit. 

“Yes, Fenrir said it was abandoned.” Looking down at the tiny creature, Peter remember what else Fenrir had said. “Fenrir, you said it was hurt. Can you heal it, like you healed my cuts?” Peter asked, taking the whining kit into his hands and offering it to Fenrir. 

The wolf-dog sat up, sniffing at the kit before licking its left front paw. The shivers of the kit died down and its wide eyes became more hooded. Fenrir returned to the floor without a word.  
The kit appeared more at ease now, its eyelids heavy and dropping as it yawned. 

“I have so many burning questions, but it can wait till morning. You can borrow my guest room, Peter. You need to rest.” May said and finished her tea. 

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but a large yawn tugged at his jaw instead. “I swear to you, I will explain all this to you, May.”

“Yes, yes.” Said the old woman and tutted, ushering Peter into the guest room. “Get into bed before you fall over on the floor.” She said with a fond smile and went into her own room after wishing a good night. 

Peter sat down on the spare bed, looking down at the kit on his chest. It had fallen asleep and was breathing softly. Carefully, Peter put the kit down on the mattress before undressing some of his clothes and getting into bed himself. Fenrir joined them and settled on the foot of the bed, which Peter did not mind. The three of them slept soundly as the rain continued pouring down outside.


	12. Chapter 12 - The Future King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter finds the words he wants to say to Anthony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this: Beautiful Crime - Tamer

Peter woke up to a something wet nudging his cheek. Swatting his hand at whatever was bothering him, Peter grumbled in his half sleeping state. He did however, become fully awake when he heard Fenrir´s looming voice in his mind. 

“Prince. Someone is coming.” The wolf-dog warned. Sensing potential danger must be another one of his mysterious abilities. Sitting up on the bed, Peter remembered the kit from the night before and pulled the sheets back to find the brown and tiny animal sleeping. It had curled into a ball with its small tail covering its snout. The kit appeared undisturbed and Peter rose from the bed. 

“Watch over it.” 

The wolf-dog jumped onto the bed and curled around the kit protectively, keeping his ears up and eyes wide, like it was his own pup he was guarding. Peter stepped out of the guest room, but hesitated outside of May's door. He decided against waking her, hoping that he could deal with whoever was coming without a fuss.  
It was early in the morning and the sun had not risen above the tree crowns yet. Stumbling a bit in the darkness, Peter made his way to the door. He put his suit back on and retrieved his sword, peaking through the small window in the door. In the opening outside, Peter saw a dozen men on horses making their way to the cottage. Spotting two white horses in the crowd, Peter realised it was Frea and Orvar, with the two Kings on their backs. The Prince cursed under his breath and dropped the sword. He had hoped he had some more time to gather himself from yesterday’s events before facing the two Kings. He stepped out the door and waited for the party to come to a halt. 

“What on earth were you thinking running away like that? Have I not being teaching you how to fight for two whole weeks? It was not even a challenging battle!” Anthony was venting, throwing his hands in the air and shooting Peter furious looks as they rode to the castle. 

Peter was reluctant to leave May's cottage. Firstly, he had promised to tell her what lead him to her cottage in the middle of the night, with a bloodied face, magical wolf-dog and a fox kit. He made another promise to come back as soon as he could and explain himself to his old nanny.  
Secondly, he wanted to figure things out by himself without the dominating and looming presence of the two Kings.  
In bed, he adored letting himself submit to the two older men, but royal matters like with Steve on the field was another thing. The Prince wanted to act and think independently. The Danish King was making it nearly impossible as he continued ranting. However, he appeared to be more angry at Steve than Peter. Stephen gave him a sympathetic look from Frea´s back.  
The Prince held onto Grani´s reins lazily, keeping most of his focus on the fox kit by his hip. The kit made happy noises as Peter petted it, occasionally biting on his fingers playfully. The small creature was in desperate need of a bath, its fur covered in so much dirt that Peter could not tell the true colour of its coat. He could not even be entirely sure it was a red fox, which were the most common ones in the area. There were arctic foxes further up north, but they were rarer here.  
The three royals and their party were nearing the lake when the Danish King once more demanded Peter's attention. 

“Peter! Are you listening?” Anthony barked, moving Orvar closer to Grani and Peter. 

“All right, I am growing tired of your voice, Tony.” Stephen said, pushing himself and Frea in between the two other white horses. He addressed the King first.

“I think you ought to talk to the Prince alone. You must come to an agreement, as there is much work to do regarding Rogers. This pettiness is wasting everyone’s time.” The Swede said sternly, like he was talking to a bratty child. Peter was quite stunned by Stephen and surprised that Anthony said nothing back, only nodded. 

“Fine. Leave us.” Said Anthony and gestured to the guards with his hand. 

“I will take Thyra.” Stephen said to Peter, extending his free hand to him. Looking down at the kit, Peter hesitated a bit before passing the animal to Stephen carefully. The kit yelped, seeming to not be pleased with leaving its comfortable spot on Peter's thigh. 

“Thyra?”

“Yes, she told me her name.” 

A smile tugged at Peter's lips as he repeated the kit´s name in his mind. He had only found her last night, but he was fond of her and felt very protective of her. Holding Thyra to his chest with one hand, Stephen pulled on Frea´s reins with the other and left with the guards. Fenrir trotted behind the party, turning back to look at Peter once before disappearing behind a short tree. 

Like Anthony, Peter jumped down from horseback and joined him by the shore of the lake. Behind them the two white horses nibbled at one another playfully before grazing on the small patches of grass by the shore.  
Anthony had his hands clasped behind his back, fiddling with his fingers. He looked across the lake without saying a word. The morning mist above the lake was illuminated by the sun as it peaked above the trees. Some of the tree leaves were already changing from their summer green to the yellows, oranges and reds of autumn. The damp air smelled strongly of the earth due to the heavy rain during the night before. It was very quiet by the lake, with only a few fish breaking the water surface to eat the insects buzzing above.  
After a moment, Peter dared to look up at Anthony. He still wore the armour from the day before, with drops and streaks of blood splattered across his body. He appeared unharmed himself, however, and Peter felt bad for only now thinking about the danger that both Kings were in and how he had left them. The Kings must have searched for him all night. Peter cursed at himself for acting so cowardly. Thinking back, he would have most likely been able to defeat or at least escape from the Winter Soldier as he was on horseback, armed and armoured while the soldier had little or none of that.  
Finally, the King broke the silence. 

“The last time I saw him, he tried to kill me. 20 years… I was starting to believe he was dead.” The King started, still looking out across the lake. “And then he shows his perfect teeth and pretty hair without a warning, offering a new faith and for us to be brothers like nothing happened.” Anthony chuckled in mockery, scratching at his facial hair. 

“You were close, were you not?” Peter asked gently, afraid to set the King off again. Anthony sighed deeply, seeming to be lost in old memories and a smile tugged on the corner of his mouth. 

“We were. We might have been lovers even. I was told that he felt rejected when I began looking for a Queen, who could give me an heir, and working hard to improve the lives of the Danish people. He left my circle and then years later Hábrók informed me that he was spreading lies about me to my people. He claimed that my technology was witchcraft and that I was not helping the Danish people, only building for my own selfish gains.  
The claims grew bolder ever year, until he simply deemed me an unworthy King and that he should sit on the throne instead. The rest you know from what Stephen has told.” 

The King spoke with such sincerity in his gentle and hurt tone that Peter did not doubt a word that he said. Anthony kept a neutral look on his face, but the sadness in his eyes gave him away. Finally, he turned to look at Peter, smiling weakly before lowering his eyes to the ground. 

“I allowed emotion to cloud my judgement. I stepped over you and stormed into a fit of violence like a hot-headed fool. I was wrong to doubt you and I realise now how I have undermined you.” The King paused for a while, before taking in a breath and dropping to his knees in front of the Prince. 

“Can you forgive me, your Highness?” 

Peter had struggled with what he wanted to say to the King since his comment from the day before. Perhaps ever since his arrival two weeks ago. Now, that he was knelt before him, the words can naturally to the Prince and he addressed Anthony. 

“You have undermined me and failed to treat me with the respect that my ranking demands. As much as I enjoy degrading titles behind closed doors in bed, I will not have it anymore when others are present. I know now what I am capable of and even if you still do not find me to fit the throne, I will sit on it and treat you as a foe if need be.” The Prince spoke with confidence, his posture straight and eyes boring into the King. Anthony seemed startled by the threat and raised his head. His eyes were filled with tears, an emptiness and desperation in his expression. 

“I know most of this is due to the bad temper that Steve brought out in you. Now, stand. I forgive you, Tony.” 

The casual title seemed to delight the King as he laughed and jumped up, hugging Peter close to his body as he cried quietly. The Prince returned the hug, feeling incredibly relieved and proud of himself for speaking his mind. The two embraced one another for a long time, enjoying the shared warmth in the chilly morning. The Dane was the first to pull away, turning his back to Peter as he dried his eyes like nothing had happened. 

“Did you really run off at the sight of the Winter Soldier? One of my knights claimed to see you and Grani.” Said Anthony with a playful twinkle in his eyes. 

The Prince squirmed a little, his ears reddening. “Like a frightened deer.” 

Anthony laughed out, bending over and hitting Peter on the back. The Prince tried to remain serious and not giggle, but the King's laugh was too contagious. Anthony and Peter's loud laughs echoed across the still water, probably startling the forest animals coming to the lake for a morning drink. After a moment or two, the pair calmed down from their laughing fit and Anthony ruffled Peter's curls.

“You still have a few tricks to learn, Prince.” He said with a smile and eyes filled with fondness as he pulled Peter into a kiss. “Or should I say my future King.”

Peter grinned against Anthony's lips and kissed him long and hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter´s arctic fox Thyra: "like a thunder" in Old Norse


	13. Chapter 13 - The Kings´ Return (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prince misses the two Kings during the cold winter nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this: Aftergold - Big Wild

Peter climbed two steps at a time up the tower stairs on the north side of the castle. Thyra was already at the top and scratched at the door to the landing. The Prince opened the door and squinted his eyes at the bright winter sun. The grounds around the castle were covered in pure white snow, as well as the trees surrounding the fields. The lake had frozen a month ago and would stay frozen for months.  
Peter was dressed in his warmest furs and coats, so the biting wind did not bother him. Thyra was not bothered either, as she had grown a long and white winter coat. Peter felt incredibly lucky when he had realised he had an arctic fox as a pet. The two had grown very fond of one another, even though Thyra had a bit of a temper and sharp teeth to demonstrate said temper with. Nonetheless, she was a great companion to have sleeping by his feet during long lessons spent with Wong in the library. She would also sit and watch most of the Prince's sword training with Rhodes, licking his bruises and cuts ever so gently afterwards. 

Filling his lung with the crisp air, Peter felt a deep sense of calmness. His training was processing smoothly. Rhodes and Wong were strict, but fair and he considered them to be his friends. Since the Kings left, Peter had taken on some of the responsibilities of the throne and became more engaged with the courtiers. However, the issue with Steve Rogers and the Russian tsar was more complicated for the Prince to deal with by himself. Unlike a few months ago, Peter did not look at his future crown with shyness, but with excitement when he occasionally went to the throne room. The Prince had not seen Anthony nor Stephen since their last visit in the autumn. They had spoken through letters and reminded the Prince about their promise that they would return before midwinter. It would still be weeks before that time and Peter found himself growing impatient. He missed the two men dearly. Thyra was great company during the day, but at night Peter wished from the bottom of his heart that Anthony and Stephen shared the bed with him to keep him warm. 

Suddenly, Thyra jumped up and began nibbling at Peter´s glove. She whined and skipped around the landing, trying to look over the railing of the tower. 

“What is it, girl?” The Prince asked confused, following Thyra´s gaze and looking across the field. He saw no movement other than a large bird in the distance. As the bird flew closer, Peter saw that it was a hawk and that it was headed right towards the tower. The hawk grew mightier as it approached and Peter studied its feathers in awe. Slowing down, the hawk flapped its wings and settled on the railing, folding its wings before looking right at Peter with black, but intelligent eyes. 

“Prince. I am Hábrók. The Kings will arrive soon.” Hábrók´s voice echoed in Peter's mind, the same way that Fenrir had spoken to him. The hawk's voice was sharper and more airy compared to Fenrir´s rumbling voice. 

“Thank you.” The Prince said calmly, despite feeling a little uneasy in the presence of another magical creature. 

Hábrók bowed his head before spreading his large wings once more and flying off. Following where the hawk was headed, Peter saw a party peaking through the forest, making their way up to the castle. The Prince squealed in delight and ran back inside and out to the stable. Grani sensed the excitement and neighed happily. Peter readied his steed twice as fast as normally and Thyra stood watching, making squeaky noises. With his two trusty companions, the Prince dashed out into the snow to welcome the two Kings back to the Norwegian royal castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thats it! My studies will begin next week so I unfortunately cannot continue this story. I do have some ideas for a potential part 2, but I do not want to make any promises. Do let me know what you think of part 1 and what you would want to see happen in part 2.  
> I also have some oneshots planned, so subscribe if you are interested or follow me on professional-benaddict on Tumblr. Thank you so much for reading. It has truly been an amazing experience to write and hear the feedback. Love ya dears <3


End file.
